


Deservingness

by Lumiere_Noir



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumiere_Noir/pseuds/Lumiere_Noir
Summary: Chief Detective of Administrative Vice in 1947/1948 LAPD is fighting with his own thoughts. What did he deserve? How did his life deserve to continue?
Relationships: Stefan Bekowsky/Gordon Leary
Comments: 16
Kudos: 5





	1. Thoughts, guilt, and making steps

Why? So many why’s ran through his own head. 

Why did it have to be Cole of all people to get wrapped up in this shit?

It was his own fault.

Why did Cole get so enamored with the that German whore? Why did he become so consumed with the junkie bitch?

Again, his own fault.

Why did have to die?

Well maybe that wasn’t his fault… Maybe. 

Who the hell was he kidding, it was completely his own fault. He might have warned the kid, but he didn’t try his hardest. He could have stopped him, physically held him back from it all. He tried playing it cool and sending Petersen to get that Kelso kid to do it. Roy figured that the two hated each others guts too much to work together. In the end though, they did. 

Hell, he heard that call to Cole’s car that night. He could have stopped him then. He didn’t know how, but he would have found a way, like he always did. Yet he just sat there, in his car, too scared to move to one side or the other. 

It was all his fault. 

A wife without her husband, two girls without their dad. And when he looked out across the fairly barren pews, he seen that there were good people without a friend, a rock, a good cop who just wanted to keep the streets safe for the people on them. 

He introduced him to that bitch. He can’t even remember why he did that anymore. He was sure that he had a reason. He always had a reason, weather good or bad, for anything he did. Always, but now he couldn’t remember what it was. It definitely wasn’t worth this. 

He got Cole demoted to the desk where the blonde seen his fate.

He didn’t deserve to live a good life in this world that seen so much hurt because of his own actions, did he? Roy pointed his gun to his head, putting his finger on the trigger, pulling it to just the point before another ounce of pressure would have set it off. 

Did he deserve to die and escape this guilt though? Did he deserve to join Cole in death by his hand and be the only one out of all those to be closest to Cole. Even if it was just by being in the ground somewhere? Roy let go of the trigger.

Maybe he deserved to live in guilt. No, he definitely did. He already felt it, hell his gun was still at his temple. He deserved to have that guilt as long as people still grieved. 

He still didn’t give a damn about the German bitch. He never could, not after what went down between them so long ago. But that didn’t change the fact that there were to little kids that would be without their father. 

He knew what kind of an effect that had on a kid. His dad was absent most of his own life and look how he turned out, a crooked cop that couldn’t pick a damn lane. Marie may be able to move on though, having filed for divorce after the incident. Hopefully those girls would turn out better than he did.

Roy put the gun down and set it on his coffee table, opting for the bottle of scotch instead. He took a swig and let his thoughts turn back to what he deserved. 

He didn’t deserve escape, he knew that. Yet he knew he didn’t deserve his life either. He didn’t deserve this lavish apartment, his fancy car, or even his suits. His line of sight moved to his badge. If anything. He didn’t deserve that either. He took another swig from the bottle. 

And another. And another. 

Next thing he knew, the receiver to his phone was in his hand. It was Friday night, who the fuck was he going to make this call to? It couldn’t be anyone on the crooked side of the board, the would kill him. That left just a few people that might actually listen to him, not that he deserved their ear.   
He dialed the Pole’s number. He knew that was where he would find just the person he was looking for. 

“Bekowsky…” the voice sounded tired and broken, but he picked up on the first ring. Roy knew he got it right. 

“Can yo-“ he was cut off.

“What the fuck do you want, Earle?” That tired and broken voice quickly turned into a heated and pissed one. 

“If you let me finish, you would fucking know.” An exasperated sigh came from the other end so Roy continued, “Can you put Leary on?”

“What in God’s name makes you think they are here?” Bekowsky was obviously still pissed but he quieted down to a whisper, which meant he was right to call the Pole. 

“Does it matter? He’s there and I need to tell him something.”

“No.” It was still whispered, but it was sharp. It hurt a bit but Roy knew he deserved it. 

“Fine then, pass along a message for me.” It came out as an order, but he knew he still needed Stefan to agree to it anyways. 

“Depends on what that is.” The homicide detective’s voice came to a more even tone and was at a normal volume now, which told Roy that the man would, at least, hear him out. 

“Tell him I’ve resigned, effective immediately. It can wait until Monday when you’re both at the station, or whenever he brings it up. I really don’t care. Just tell him though. No one else. He will handle it appropriately.”

“Why the hell should I do that? Take it to your people.”

Roy knew that Stefan had meant Ad-Vice command. Now was he going to break the kid’s naivety or let him continue to live in ignorance. 

“Because kid,” his voice softened. The kid was obviously not going to let his role in Cole’s death go, which was exactly what he deserved. “Because everyone else above me also had a role in Cole’s death. They would kill me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t deserve it, Earle.”

Roy sighed. Partially in relief that this was as much confirmation that he was going to get from the kid that he would at least do as he had asked. Yet also his mixed into his sigh was something broken. 

Was he really going to have this talk with Stefan Bekowsky of all people? There was yet to be a dial tone, so it seemed that way. 

“If I deserved to get out of all this hate and guilt through death, I would have done it myself twenty minutes ago.” His voice was starting to break again, just like the funeral. “Look. I’m out of here, but I’m not going to give myself peace or let anyone else give it to me. All I can do is give myself what I do deserve, and that is nothing.”

Dead silence from the other end, yet still no dial tone. This time he was going to stay on till there was one. Eventually the kid spoke up, the voice softened.

“Okay, fine. I get you’re point. Just…” Stefan trailed off. Roy just sat there though, waiting. This was a lot for him to put on the kid just to get out the department. Maybe there was still something in the Pole that gave a shit. Eventually, the voice came back, with a caring mood this time. “Just… Check in from time to time. Alright?”

That was the last thing the older man had expected. He couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Why?”

“I don’t have to satisfy your curiosity with an answer. Just tell me you will and I will tell them when it gets brought up. Deal?” 

There was little thought that had to be given to that. It would give him a hell of a head start from Worrell’s wrath. “Deal.”

Dial tone. No good-bye, nothing. That was it. Fitting, as it was what he deserved. Though not in-line with the obvious concern that the kid had, wanting him to check in. Roy shrugged it off for the moment, hanging up the phone and started preparing for whatever the hell he was going to do.


	2. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its time to leave, but there is so much to do yet. It's not as simple as it seems and does he even know where he is going?

Roy changed out of his iconic suit and donned something simpler and generally less notable. He looked at the hanging jacket, holding the salmon colored sleeve fondly in his hand. It was a sad day to be leaving it behind, but it was necessary if he didn't want to be easily spotted by any of Worrell's goons. He pulled out the worn briefcase from the back of his closet, he never had any luggage as he never thought he would be leaving this life, but here he was. Roy sighed as he looked through his closet. He packed a few white dress shirts, grey slacks and one other blazer and the tie he donned at Cole's funeral. He didn't know where he was going to go, but he really had to be ready. He may have deserved nothing but even the bums at the camp had a jacket. He filled the little left over space with small hygiene necessities before forcing the briefcase closed.

Roy went around his apartment, pocketing things he could eventually pawn off. There was very little that he could take with him, but he pocketed his dad's old Rolex and put on his mother's wedding band. His mother's hand's were much smaller than his so it would only fit on his little finger, but he smiled softly at the memory. His mother gave it to him once his father finally died in hopes he would find someone special to give it too himself. Those hopes were far off, he knew he would never find a broad he would settle with; hell, he had a hard enough time getting it back from the one women he thought he could. He frowned at how horrible of a decision that was, but his mother was the only good thing in his life at that point, and it was all he had left of her. Well that and his picture on the mantel. Roy strode over to that old frame, picking it up and looking at the torn photo. He ripped his father out of it some time ago and it had accumulated much damage on his dart bored since. It was the only picture he had of his mother though, and she looked so proud of him then, in what was once a brand new patrol uniform. He really didn't want to damage what was left of the picture but there was little room left for it in his briefcase. He opened the back of it, removing the photo so that it could fit in his suitcase. He finished pocketing anything small and of value before heading to the door.

Before leaving, Roy took one last look around his lavish apartment. He lived a more than comfortable life here and he sure as hell didn't deserve that anymore. It had many things of monetary value, but no memories he longer cared to keep, which he was just starting to realize was just slightly more important to him now. Not that he deserved those now either, but hell he wished he had just a few more with Cole. More important memories with Cole that were impossible now and have been undeserved longer than that. He sighed, going to pick up his badge, gun and the half empty bottle of scotch as an after thought. Placing his fedora on top of his head, he finally walked out. Closing his door so it didn't alert his neighbors to his absence but not bothering to lock it either. There was little point to it now, as he had everything he was keeping on his person. 

He strode to his car, not really bothering to put his luggage in his trunk. He tossed the briefcase on the passenger seat as he set off to take care of a few other things before he skipped town. First on his list was to go to his bank. It wasn't a long stop, but it had a few necessities he needed if he was going to avoid Worrell long enough. As soon as he reached the counter, he requested access for his lock box. The man at the counter was nice enough to lead him into the vault, even when his own attitude was gruff enough. He still held his briefcase in hand, if only to make sure it wasn't stolen in his short time away from his car. Thankfully the teller left him to do his thing, only standing at the vault door. Roy went to his box number, unlocked it and pulled it out of its place and set it on the table. Opening it, he found it just as he left it. He picked out his old, backstopped ID that he used in undercover work when the department didn't deem giving a new identity necessary. 

He looked at the ID for a minute. It was no different from his real identity, outside of the last name It was his maternal grandmother's maiden name. Roy Anderson. It was far enough removed to keep suspicion off of his real identity and close enough to make the little details of no issue. Yet, if anyone were to look it up, it showed he was just some guy who did odd jobs for money and lived in the old family home just outside of east Los Angeles. It had access to his accounts too, but he would close those out once he knew where he was going. He then quickly put the ID in the fold of his wallet before moving on to the couple of items left. He moved on to his second .45 caliber gun. It could use a good cleaning, but he knew it was trustworthy. Skipping the memories of the origins of that piece, he placed the spare gun at the small of his back, muzzle inside of his waist band with the grip out. Roy made sure it sat comfortably and secure before moving on to the final piece in the box. It was Cole's badge. It was all that Roy could find down in the sewers in the days following the horrific event, hell even the casket that was buried was empty. He knew he didn't deserve to keep this but he knew Marie sure as hell didn't want it. He quickly placed it inside his suitcase, knowing it would remind him later on why he was doing what he is trying to do. It would keep him on a path just like it did for its deceased owner. 

Roy closed up the now empty box, putting it back into its place in the wall and locking it up. He took the key off his key ring before tossing it over to the teller on his way out the vault. 

"Do you wish to close out the account to your box, Mr. Earle?" 

"Why else would I hand over the key. I've had that box for a number of years and visited it multiple times. I know what I'm doing. I'm not finished though, I need make a withdraw from my main account here."

"Yes, of course sir. Follow me."

The two made their way back to the lobby quickly and Roy made his withdraw of five hundred dollars. He wasn't sure about how much he would actually need to get to where he was going, but he was leaving the city and he did not need Worrell and his goons to be on his tail through bank withdraws. Without a thanks or even a good day, Roy headed back out to his car. He placed his briefcase on the seat as he did before and just started driving with no real direction. 

Eventually he found himself passing by Hollywood Station by mere coincidence. He thought a second about stopping in, maybe grabbing up a few folders from his desk, but there was little point. It would only make things that more obvious, and he couldn't deck Colmyer while he was at it, so he just flipped the bird off as he passed by the station and continued on his way. As he found himself starting to leave the north side of the city, he made one last stop at a gas station to fill up and grab a few more packs of cigarettes. 

It was late when he left the city, and he found himself heading north on the open road. The drive itself was actually nice and calmed his thoughts down a bit. He could actually smell clean air and appreciate the mountain view. There was little life visible on the road for once, just open terrain. That only started to piss him off when his stomach started to demand food, remembering he left a steak marinating in his fridge. It wasn't long after he passed by a small 24-hour diner across the street from a stand alone gas station. 

He filled up his tank and stuffed face at the stop. The food was good and so were the women serving him, but he brushed off their advances at conversation, paying before he left. He noticed phone booth outside the gas station, looking at his watch to check the time if it was a decent hour to check in. His crack faced watch that he wore on his right wrist read three in the morning. He would murder Bekowsky alive if he called that early. He looked over to the bottle of scotch that was still in his seat. He figured he could kill a couple of hours and the rest of the bottle waiting to give a more decent wake up call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to any who returned for part two... I'm trying to write this so it would be good stand alone without more to come, but still open for more. I don't really have a schedule for updates or writing. I write when the muse hits. I appreciate all feed back.


	3. Gold in Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy finally checks in with Bekowsky, if only to let him know that he's already out of town. He still doesn't quite have a destination in mind, but maybe one of his next stops will light it up for him. It's kinda funny to him, and he probably doesn't deserve to be so close to certain roots, yet it is nice, and maybe he could just make his new life of nothing there.

He stared out at the vast, deserted terrain before him as he sat on the hood of his vehicle. No one was around except the people working the shift in the diner. A new one just popped in, so it looked fairly busy for a bit. He took the last sip of his scotch out of the bottle as he watched the sun rise over the far out mountains. He had not appreciated such a thing in a long time, yet here he was. the appreciation may have been misplaced, as he knew there was probably a mark on his head. One he put there, but it didn't matter anymore because it was exactly what he deserved. To live each day in guilt and sorrow all the while not knowing if he would live to see another day. 

He chuckled a bit, remembering just how close he had been to getting his head blown away before. Not too long ago, but before Cole died. He didn't care back then if Cole pulled the trigger, but as he thought about it, he would still rather Cole to take his own life. If only for his last memory to be with that man who turned his life upside-down. Roy shook his head as he went to take another drink from the bottle, finding it empty. He shrugged and threw it onto the floorboard of his front seat. He looked at his cracked face wrist watch again and seen it was closing in on about six a.m. He was about to slide off the car to use the phone but the lady who served him earlier was walking up to him, too coffee cups in hand. 

"Thought you could use this, sugar," the woman offered one of the paper cups to him. Roy wasn't fond of her use of pet names, but he did note earlier that it was just how she referred to all her customers. He did take the coffee though, as he was going to go in and buy one before getting back on the road. 

"Thanks." He took a long drink from the cup before setting it next to him on the hood. The woman didn't leave, though. He didn't really care much, having a decent buzz going on, but all he knew was he wasn't going to be the one to make conversation with the broad. It was a few minutes before she spoke up again. 

"You know, we don't get many of you're type around here. Usually its just guys driving trucks who pop in this far out during these hours."

Roy sighed. He was actually putting up with this. It wasn't like he was he had a schedule to keep. Well that, and one of the other night crew from the diner was now using the pay phone. "I'd put my bet on that, sister. Though I guess if you did, you would have lost money tonight."

The comment made her laugh. She didn't have money on it, but it was one hell of a true statement. "Well thankfully I didn't make any bets on it. Anyway, its just odd to see you're kind out here so early, and more so to stick around a few hours to drink on their car. You seem lost."

"Hard to be lost when you don't have a real destination." Roy leaned forward a bit, resting his arms on his knees. The conversation was not close to interesting to him, but he hadn't really talked to anyone since his phone call to Stefan yesterday. 

"Excuse me being forward, but you don't seem the type to be running away to Hollywood. Though I guess that's a destination so..." the off-duty waitress trailed off, not knowing where to take this. She could still just leave, but the man looked like he needed a little company.

Roy let out one of his hearty HA's and frowned, "Anywhere but there, sister. Anywhere but.

"Well this place isn't much and there is little work out here. Though you're about half way to Sacramento, though if you go East, you would end up in Fresno." She had little idea of where the man was trying to go to, or what he was trying to escape, but maybe a little orientation and direction would help this seemingly lost man out.

"Thanks." Roy had nothing to add, really. He was just going to keep driving, really. Until he found where ever he was going. He looked back over to the phone and seen it was free. "I have to make a call." He took another swig of his coffee. "Thanks again for this."

The waitress took that as her cue to leave, which worked out just fine for her as her bus was just pulling up. "Of course, sugar. Come back and see us sometime!"

Roy wasn't sure if that was ever going to happen, but he nodded all the same before getting up and taking his coffee over to the phone. 

He threw in a quarter and told the operator to make the long distance call to Bekowsky's line. It rang a few times before the other end was picked up. 

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was tired and groggy, but it was nearly seven so Roy didn't care. 

"Bekowsky, It's Roy."

"Did ya change you're mind? Coming into work now? Because if you are, the heads up is great. I can get ready to deck you."

"No, shit for brains. I thought I would let ya know that I'm already out of town. You were the one who demanded that I check in with you." 

"Well excuse me, I thought you would at least sleep on it." Stefan checked his clock, wondering how early it actually was. It really wasn't all that bad, but his alarm had yet to go off yet. "I haven't even put the coffee on yet. Hell, how far did you get anyway?" He couldn't help his curiosity, he wanted to know how long it really took the ex-Vice Cop to get out of town.

"You're just full of questions, aren't ya?" Roy wasn't quite happy about it, but he put his trust in the Pole to keep his secret. "Apparently half way to Sacramento."

"Hell, you didn't waste any time, did ya?" 

"Well when you have a mark on you're head as soon as you miss reporting in, you let me know if you sleep on it either."

"So where are you going?"

"Can you stop with the damn questions? I'm not a suspect to one of your dead stiffs."

"You are potentially asking me to lie to the Chief for you. I think I've earned that right."

Roy sighed heavily into the receiver. "Fine, but I don't know yet. I will call you again when I get there. Any other stipulations you want to put on me?" 

Stefan thought about it. Roy might actually just end up driving around the country for the rest of his day's just to avoid another call. "Call on Thursday nights. If you miss it, I'll hunt you down myself."

"That's on the extreme side of things, but fine. I'll call Thursday. Now get you're ass to work." And with that, Roy hung up the phone. 

He managed to finish his coffee before he even went back to the car. With half a bottle of scotch in him and the lack of sleep, he figured he could use another cup. Going back in, he ordered a refill which was freshly brewed and ready for him after using their restroom. Now ready for another long stretch of driving, Roy decided to head due north.

About a couple hours out of Sacramento, Roy stopped to fill up his Cadillac and grab some fluid to fill his lighter. He paid quickly before looking at a local map, wondering where he could stay for the night. He wasn't too far away from the San Diego beaches. He didn't have swim wear or anything, but he always wanted to take a nap on the beach when he was a kid, which was something he never got to do, even living in Los Angles, he never got to the beach. He put the map back and headed off back to his car. 'Why the hell not,' he thought as he headed off that way.

He parked in a lot near the sand, opting to lock his things in the trunk though keeping his guns on him of course. Mid-day, it was bright and hot, but he managed to find a shaded area under a pier to lay down. Closing his eyes, he had a single thought before immediate falling asleep. 'This is nice.'

Several hours later, movement nearby woke him. It was dark out now, but it was the beach so he kept his eyes closed even though he was now fully awake. He wasn't about to startle whoever was near him. There was great likelihood that it was some bum about to try and rob him. Hell, he was itching for some excitement to his long day. He grinned softly as a hand went for his jacket. Roy immediately grabbed the other's wrist and immediately put his face into the sand. Quickly, before the bum could retaliate, Roy was immediately sitting on his back with a gun to the back of the man's head. 

"I know I'm new here, but I bet you're learning real quick not to fuck with me."

"I-I-I thought you were a stiff."

"Stuttering bullshit, are you? I'll let ya dumb ass live today, but the next time someone tries this crap with me, they won't be so lucky."

The bum vigorously nodded as he was obviously lost for words, quickly shuffling to his feet and running off as Roy finally stood up. He chuckled at the man's reaction before starting to walk to his car. Though his fist step seemed off, the sand had more squish then when he got there. He looked down and chuckled once more when he seen that the man had pissed his pants. He would need to clean his shoes now, but he could get used to this place. It was nice being able to actually have to try to frighten people again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO...  
> I wasn't really planning on updating so soon, but my frustration with BFH (Battlefield Hardline) made me put down the console, which brought my muse back again. It's actually how I got chapter 2. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy and, as always, all comments and critiques are definitely appreciated.


	4. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bits and pieces of Roys first week out in SanFran.

The beach was nice, and while Roy knew he didn’t deserve “nice”, it offered other things to him that made it a great place for him to stay for a while. During the empty hours, which was most of the time, it gave him some catharsis. He could scream out to the ocean with people not giving him even a second glance, though that had probably more to do with the fact that he looked like a real bum by this point. 

Something else that the ocean gave him was the ability to let go over the control over his own life. He wasn’t as suicidal now, or even as concerned about the mark that was probably well on his head by now. Sleeping under the pier, or right under the stars on a clear night on the beach gave mother nature that control over his life. He was putting his life in the care of the ocean. If the world was ready to take him, it easily could. Some nights he even woke up to the ocean carrying him higher on the beach, as if to say, not yet. 

This was probably as close as he’s ever really came to believing in God or any other higher power, but it was enough to keep him from pointing the barrel at his own head. He still didn’t think he deserved to live, but he knew he didn’t deserve to die either. At least something else, maybe with an all-knowing power will be able to tell him what he deserved and when. There were even some nights where he was able to strip down for a swim when no one else was around, and other nights when pedestrians were taking for late night walks, he usually just sat near the tide, waiting to see how long it took for the tide to come to overtake him. On these nights, when he sat waiting for the tide, he knew he moved closer each night, but the ocean never came above his chin before starting to recede back to low tide. 

Roy had been on the beach for a few days at this point. He got his sleeping schedule back on track, mostly though only until he realized that it really didn’t quite matter right now since he wasn’t expected to be anywhere. Once he realized he really did just find life a bit less stressful on the beach, he made arrangements to store his car and his belongings within it. He found a garage that seemed fairly reputable with no questions asked, though that was probably due to being paid the year in advance. He spent the rest of his time and the little he had left in his pocket on liquor and food from a near by shack. It was at the shack that he was able to gather a used newspaper, and while it kept him mostly informed, he was mostly interested in the day of the week. 

It was how he knew it was Thursday, the only day that mattered enough to even want to keep track of what day of the week it was. He was supposed to call Stefan. It was late enough in the afternoon when he got hold of the paper that he might be able to reach him at his home, though the kid actually had picked up the slack once he had been promoted to the homicide desk, so there was also a decent chance he could reach Stefan at the station. He pondered as he went looking for a phone-booth, as the shack wouldn’t let him use their line, bastards. He had enough change to make a couple of long-distance calls, so he figured he would just try the kids home a few times. It would be too dangerous to call the station himself, and he wasn’t going to give his money to some bum to fuck it up for him.  
Roy eventually found a phone-booth down the block. His first attempt had been unsuccessful, ending with an operator asking if he wanted to try another line. He just hung up with that. He was sure he could busy himself with some reading of some kind. He found a Thursday extra sitting on a bench. A perfect time waster, as there might be a crossword or something to do, considering he didn’t care much for the news of the city. Looking for something to fill his time, he came across a filler article with news from LA that caught his eye ‘LAPD Vice Cop Gone AWOL’. Roy gave a slight chuckle and decided to take a look about what some dumbass reporter had to say. 

_Chief LAPD Vice Detective considered Absent Without Leave after having failed to show up for role call at Hollywood Station. Detective Roy Earle, formerly accused to have played a hand in the major Suburban Re-Development Fund Scandal and once partner to the late hero Detective Cole Phelps, is once again under investigation by LAPD’s Internal Investigations squad due to his absence. Early investigation reports said that while the door to his apartment was unlocked, they couldn’t determine whether anything of Earle’s personal belongings were missing. They concluded that Earle has gone AWOL, however, as only his department issued badge and his personal handgun were the only items not found in his apartment. One detective working the case only concluded that he had purposefully become AWOL as they found Earle’s signature suite jacket had been left in the apartment. Apparently, this article of clothing is one of a kind, extremely expensive, and prominent enough that the only reason for Earle to leave it at his home would be to escape easy identification by locals._

_Earle’s superior and former partner, Lieutenant Colmyer, gave this statement to the LA Times.  
“Detective Roy Earle has been through a whirlwind of events over the past few months, not least of which was the passing of his most recent partner. While Internal continues to investigate his disappearance as AWOL, I suspect that other reasons are at play. I will personally make sure his disappearance is fully investigated by the Homicide squad as both a murder and a suicide until more information comes to light about his absence.”_

_D.A.’s investigator Jack Kelso, who has had some run ins with Earle over the last few months and served with Cole Phelps in the Pacific Campaign, also gave a statement to the LA Times.  
“The last time I saw Earle was at [Phelps] funeral. I had ran the investigation against the Suburban Development Fund and Elysian Fields, were Earle had been suspect to be involved. He was released as a suspect due to insufficient physical evidence. While I will not be investigating Earle’s disappearance, I do believe it should be made known to the public that his disappearance may be in connection to those matters and warn caution to anyone who sees him in public. Those connected to the Suburban Redevelopment Fund may be looking for him, and they will not hesitate to remove witnesses once they find him.”_

_The LAPD is offering a large sum of money in return for information leading to Earle’s whereabouts._

The article made Roy chuckle. Colmyer acting like he was concerned for his well-being to start off with. He would have to ask Stefan if Archie actually did make them start a homicide investigation over him. What really got him was that Kelso fuck actually giving a statement. He was railed by him in interrogation, and not in any fun way either. There was so little evidence to throw him in with everyone else though. His name was in a book, which was because he got roped into getting some bonds with the company. Well that and the fact that Worrell had tried to set him up as their scape goat, but there no evidence that meeting, which he crashed, had even taken place. He did have a point though, what was left of the SRF probably was going to kill him and anyone around him. 

If he ever did get caught, he would have to find a way to keep Worrell and Archie’s dirty hands off of him. 

Roy browsed the rest of the paper before attempting another call to Stefan. It was dusk now and he figured he would have better luck this time. He was right, in a sense.

“Bekowsky”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry its short. im just really trying to get back into writing. forcing myself really just in attempt to get out of a very dark several months for me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new thing for me and this is my first fic posted to this site. I appreciate knowing what any of y'all think about it! It was a quick write up, maybe an hour or two so please excuse any mistakes that may have been made, though I also appreciate grammar feedback as well! Thanks for reading!


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